


Honor? Mercy?

by BriannaNicole



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Contains s8 Spoilers, Conversation Heavy, Explicit Language, Explicit Murder, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, MCD is not Daryl or Rick, Relationship Issues, Rickyl Writers' Group, Season 9 Spoilers, Slight Torture Description (not too bad), Slow Burn:Getting Back Together, Takes place after s8, Torture, mention of past character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriannaNicole/pseuds/BriannaNicole
Summary: Rick knows the people of The Hilltop are not happy with his decision about Negan. He's always been willing to make unpopular decisions in the best interest of everyone involved. That is why he's the leader and they're not.





	1. Chapter 1

Sunlight shining in through the window signals the start of a new day, bringing with it the cheerful sounds of chirping birds. Rays of sunlight warm Rick’s face and he sighs with contentment. He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying being able to wake up at his own leisure and not on dangerous terms for once. Instead of moving, he lays still, his left hand moving to glide over Daryl's side. He smiles at the familiar warmth of the hunter's skin and chooses now to open his eyes. 

Their room comes into view, it’s not much different from their room at - well, their room before this one. That's not a place Rick allows his mind to wander to just yet. The wound is still blown wide open, raw around the edges and throbbing painfully inside. Quickly, he sets those horrible thoughts aside and settles on watching the even breaths Daryl makes in his sleep. Memorizing for the thousandth time the sound of his quiet snores, the gentle rise and fall of his broad shoulders moving in time. 

Rick moves his hand slowly to Daryl's hair, using only a finger to toy with a strand of his dark locks. It’s free now of the dirt, sweat, grease and blood that had clung to each strand like a second shade of hair color. Rick is grateful for that, grateful there is still such a luxury as showers and complete shelter each day. For a while, he was sure they'd lost that again. He was afraid they'd be on the road searching for yet another beginning. 

He raises himself onto an elbow now, leaning over a bit to watch Daryl's profile. He’s surprised to find a frown there instead of the peace he’s expecting but assumes Daryl is suffering from bad dreams. With all that's happened over the past few months, they've all got a great amount of nightmare material to add to the horrors of before. 

Daryl shifts, his bare shoulders hunching inward, almost like he’s curling in on himself. His muscles twitch from where Rick traces fingertips down his upper arm, the sparse hair there raising a little. There's that same frown again but he continues his slumber, seemingly unaware to Rick's light touch. 

So the leader’s exploring becomes braver, his hand sliding across taunt skin to press flatly against Daryl's stomach. When he gets no response, Rick smiles and guides his hand lower, the tips of his fingers teasing under the top of Daryl's sweats. Now, the lines on Daryl’s forehead deepen further and Rick retreats, opting to press a kiss to the hunter’s temple but is stopped. His hand is shoved completely away and Rick wonders what he could have possibly done wrong when they haven't even left bed yet. 

In the next moment, Daryl is sitting up, grunting as he stands to his full height. Rick makes to reach for him, concern already in his eyes but Daryl ignores him and stalks off to the bathroom. The slamming of the door makes Rick wince and he sits up against the headboard to wait for his return. When he hears the shower kick on and minutes go by without an invitation to join, Rick gathers his clothes with a sigh and heads out of the room. He won't allow this to hinder his good mood, though. Daryl is always snarky in the morning and if it’s something deeper they'll get through it like always. He's sure of it. Rick has something more pressing on his mind this morning.

 

He's going to get an old friend back.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Rick makes a quick detour down to the infirmary first, he can’t help but look in on his latest accomplishment just to make sure it’s real. Upon his arrival, the assigned guard looks up and gives him a firm nod. The leader leans against the door frame and watches the pitiful shadow of a leader laying still on his cot. The man’s eyes are closed and sunken in. The newly changed bandages wrapped tight around his throat look almost too white against his paling skin. His clothes are newly changed as well and Rick knows he should still be feeling the old hatred for this man but all he can truly feel is righteousness at how he was able to tear him down as promised. Negan took so much from him and he should be dead, he would be if not for honor and mercy. Rick is so proud of being the better man he can barely stand himself. He proved himself to be the better fighter and leader. He gave the ex-Saviors a place of shelter and a second chance. Rick hopes Carl can see all he’s done from wherever he is now. The sentiment brings sorrow back to the surface so instead, he nods at the guard, tells him to keep up his good work and makes his way back down the hallway. 

 

Outside the leader can’t help but notice the disapproving looks generously thrown his way, they can all be interpreted the same. He knows most if not all of the residents here thinks he should have made a different decision, but that is why he’s the leader and they’re not. Rick has always been willing to make unpopular decisions in the best interest of everyone involved. The only grateful looks he receives are from the ex-Saviors, obviously overworking themselves to earn their place despite everything they did. He walks past them all with his head held high, meeting each side eye with a grin of his own, daring them to say differently now. 

That old _Bee Gee’s_ tune pops into his head and Rick can’t help but sing that famous song as he struts, _Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah. Stayin’ Alive. Stayin’ Alive_

Rick hums on the way to the car and slides in wishing for the old CD he used to play on runs with Daryl before things went bad. He pulls off and heads for the old trash heap he hears is vacant now, except for one lone man. 

He arrives without incident and finds Jesus making his way back to his car. He’s just getting in and closing the door when Rick walks up to the side and leans his forearms on the car door. Jesus uses a hand to block his eyes from the sun and squints, “Tried to talk him into coming back with us but he wouldn’t. He says he needs to be alone for a while, doesn’t know when or if he’ll be back.” 

Amateur. Rick grins,“ That’s alright, I’ll get him to see reason. Don’t you worry.” 

Jesus gives him a disbelieving look and starts the engine. Rick watches him leave then heads for the door, banging hard three times on the entrance. He waits with his hip cocked to one side and his fingers gripped loosely through his belt loops. It takes a minute but the door slides open revealing his friend. 

Rick puts on his best smile, “Hello, Morgan. Mind if I come in?”


	2. Chapter 2

Inside is cleaner than Rick remembers from the last time he visited. Well, he didn’t exactly visit, the trash people kidnapped him and brought him here under Simon’s orders. He’d heard hearsay of what happened here, heard Simon had his group shoot everyone down and forced Jadis to kill them all again. Rick personally feels no sympathy for her, he made several attempts to reason with her, to bargain for the support of her and her people but she refused. She betrayed him for Negan. That’s what happens when you make deals with the devil, the things you hold dear are destroyed. Jadis found that out the hard way.  


Rick looks around to find Morgan has made this heap his own, he’s using practical tools instead of the odd paintings Jadis had strewn everywhere. He’s got his clothes hung out to dry over a rigged clothesline, a couple of chairs to sit on complete with a bed laid neatly to one side. The sheets are surprisingly clean to be centered in the mist of all the trash.  


Morgan gestures for Rick to sit and the leader does so, leaning back confidently in the chair with his hands resting on his thighs. His friend sighs and resigns himself to sitting as well, he looks at Rick with such a tiredness to his eyes. He’d sleep better at the Hilltop, Rick is sure of it. He made it that way, comfortable for everyone, safe.  
The silence is heavy, the atmosphere still pregnant with what happened here, what ended. Rick feels this as leaders tend to do and chooses to break the quiet. He smiles, “Like what you’ve done with the place, Morgan. Seems comfortable for one person, I guess.”

The dark-skinned man doesn’t answer, his eyes are glassy, staring beyond Rick like the past is just behind him. It’s the same look he’s been accustomed to seeing on the man’s face for quite a while now, that lost and traumatized look he’s seen on many of his people’s faces. Carol comes to mind, she looked quite similar before she disappeared out of love for the family. When no answer is forthcoming, Rick speaks up again, “This is great and all, but I really do think the Hilltop would suit you better.”  
Morgan shakes his head, refusing to meet the other man’s eyes, “Can’t. To-too many, too much happened. Gotta be alone, now. Try to heal.”  
“I understand that. We still need ya, man. You’re family too.”

“My family is dead. Watched em die, had to put em both down. Ain’t family. Alexandria wasn’t home. Hilltop ain’t a home, nowhere is home.”  
Rick shifts, privately uncomfortable at the mention of Alexandria. “We could use the help in rebuilding Hilltop, there’s enough space for you there.” That earns him another shake of the head from his friend.

Ok. Time to change tactics. 

“The boy. The one I saw with you all the time. He reminds you of your son, doesn’t he?”  
Morgan looks away, refusing to answer. “Don’t you wanna be there to watch over him, make sure he has someone to look up to? A friend? No one cares about the boy like you do. Come back and stay with him. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”  
This only serves to agitate Morgan, he stands quickly from his chair, causing it to fall over. Rick remains seated, not feeling threatened in the least. Morgan paces, his body in full distress like he’s in a battle of his own. Rick would know, he has been there, more times than he can count. He notices the tears in the man’s deep brown eyes and settles to wait out his outburst. 

“I think – think…. it’s time for you to leave now, Rick.”  
“Morg- “  
“I said time for you to leave.” 

The man’s eye twitches and Rick takes his defeat, rising and moving past Morgan to the door. Once outside, he turns back for another word, but the door is slammed in his face. Rick shakes his head and makes his leave. That’s alright, he thinks, he’ll come around. 

~~~~~~~

Of course, Jesus would be the first person he sees once he pulls up at the gate. It’s like the man has been standing there, waiting to hear about the results of what transpired. Rick gets out of the car and ignores his questioning look, it should be obvious enough that he wasn’t successful seeing as he came back alone. The long-haired man doesn’t say anything, he just stands there with his arms crossed. Rick walks past him, making a show of holding his head high. He hears someone call the man’s name in the distance and only turns around to watch Jesus walk off in that direction. He turns back to find Tara standing before him.  
“What up, dude. How ‘s it crackin’?” She’s got her customary heart-shaped shades on, the only thing she’s missing is the half-chewed twizzler hanging between her lips.  
Rick can’t help but chuckle at her way of making a simple hello seem so lively. “Went to get Morgan back, he wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Tara’s face falls, “Sorry to hear that, he’s a good guy.”

She goes silent then and when Rick starts to walk away she blocks his path, “What’s wrong, Tara?” The dark-haired woman looks around causing Rick to frown as she leans closer. 

“Not supposed to tell ya this but I am anyway.”  
Rick tilts his head, lowering it to meet Tara’s eyes, “Tell me what exactly?”

“Mags is settin’ up a new council. I don’t know who all is gonna be leading but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want you to know about it. Not until after the fact, at least.”  
Rick’s eyes widen at that, he knows she’s upset with his decision, but this is truly news to him. He can’t help but feel some irritation towards her, but he smiles at Tara as if her words hold no weight to him. “Oh really? Well, we’ll just have to see how it goes then, huh? I’m sure she’ll pick some worthy people, even if it doesn’t involve me.”  
Tara gives him a look that means she thinks he’s full of shit, “No really, I could use a break. Gotta pass the torch sometime, right?”

“Just…don’t tell anyone I told ya. I just thought it was uncool to do ya like that.”

 

Rick pats Tara on the shoulder and says nothing more. He walks away, letting his face show for a moment the anger he truly feels before he smothers it with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The woods offer Daryl much-needed solitude. He tries to immerse every ounce of his being into tracking a 5 pointer that was gracious enough to cross his path. Its tracks are fresh and easily readable, and Daryl knows it won’t be long before he’s carrying it back home. 

Home. Hilltop don’t feel like home quite yet to Daryl, he had just truly settled into Alexandria before all that shit went down. He knew he was right not to get comfortable there but everyone -most of all Rick- insisted it was home, that their days of barely surviving on the road were over. The hunter takes no pride in ultimately being right. They should have never stepped foot in that place, should’ve kept walking until they found a place just for them. They would’ve been fine eventually somewhere else, but he understands how eager Rick was to find a decent pillow and meal for the kids. 

What else could he have done back then?

Daryl stops to raise his eyes upward to check the sun, from its position it’s well past noon and will only get hotter in the upcoming hours. He wipes sweat from his eyes and rechecks the tracks, they head east towards a small stream. In fact, Daryl can smell the water from here and follows the rest of the tracks, grinning to himself when he finds he’s right. The deer’s head is bowed, gracefully licking up water. Every now and then, it looks up to check its surroundings then lowers its head back to the stream. 

Without a sound, Daryl positions himself behind a large tree and waits. From this angle, he has a perfect shot at the animal’s heart with little threat of damaging the meat. Almost ghostlike, the hunter slides himself into range, takes a few steady breaths and fires an arrow. The deer collapses by the edge of the water, causing it to splash then there is silence again. Daryl surveys the area for anything he might have missed in his deep concentration and heads over to claim his prize. 

 

As soon as he has the deer strapped to his bike, the ugly thoughts in his head return. His thoughts of pain and anger have unmuted themselves and are now back with a vengeance. Shaking his head, Daryl brings his bike to life in a dual effort to get back and to drown out those traitorous feelings threatening him with something close to insanity. 

When he arrives, he’s greeted with grateful smiles and pats on the back for bringing home such a large animal to spread around for dinner. They all know it won’t quite be enough but it’s better than nothing and no one dares complain. A couple of ex-Saviors are already in his face ready to relieve him of the meat and it’s a struggle to let them have it, to let them share the weight of carrying it to the cook to gut and bleed. It’s still disgusting to Daryl that they were given the right to be here, to breathe the same air instead of choking on it like they oughtta be. It makes no sense that they’re here, right in the same place his family and friends are. With all these bastards have done they don’t deserve a place of protection, they deserve an unmarked grave back at the Sanctuary where they belong. 

Daryl looks up to see Rick ignoring an expectant look from Jesus as he makes his way from the car and across the common area. He has such an air of righteousness to him and it irks Daryl. He would love to wipe that ego right off the face he still finds so beautiful. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to be anywhere near his lover nor does he want another fight. He doesn’t want anything but some validation of what he went through under Negan’s thumb, of what Maggie went through, what they all went through. By the way Rick’s head is held so damn high, Daryl knows he won’t be getting that anytime soon and that hurts worse than any hit he took from Negan or his people.

 

Daryl doesn’t stay to watch Rick any longer, he turns his back on those thoughts and the man he still has so much love for. Instead, he goes to seek out Maggie.

~~~~~

He finds her in her study, pouring over various maps and blueprints that could maybe be used to rebuild and strengthen Hilltop. He knocks twice before stepping in, making sure to close the door behind him with a respectful click. His friend looks up from her papers and grants him a smile that goes nowhere near her eyes. 

“Daryl, how are you?” 

Her voice is still strong which Daryl is glad to hear, it has that air of authority about it that no one else has but Rick. Her southern lilt is pronounced in the quiet of her study, she looks right at home behind that large mahogany desk. 

Daryl shrugs off the question and sits down in the chair opposite her, letting his crossbow slide from his shoulder to rest by his leg. They watch each other quietly, having a conversation without the need of words, sharing a mutual hurt neither is comfortable with sharing aloud. Maggie nods in understanding and looks back to her blueprints.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks. 

Daryl doesn’t truly know why he’s sitting here, doesn’t know what to say that isn’t harsh or rude.   
“When you having this secret meeting Rick’s not to be a part of?”

Maggie looks up at Daryl, folding her petite hands over her papers. As she leans forward all traces of her smile are gone. “In a few days. You know why Rick can’t be a part of this. My understanding was that you already agreed to that part and would keep it to yourself.”

Daryl bristles at her accusations, “I ain’t said shit to him about this, I just wanted to know when the fuckin’ thing is.”   
“I know you love him, but this is what I see as best. I think anyone outside would agree with me.”  
Daryl huffs but meets her eyes, “This ain’t about love, it’s about him making a decision he had no business makin’.”

Another knock at the door brings their conversation to a halt and Daryl turns to see Gregory standing there. He looks like a child hoping to finally be a part of an adult conversation. He speaks without permission, as always. “Be that as it may, I really do think I should be included in this. I would be oh so grateful for the opportunity to lead by your side to help you bring this place back to proper standard.” His eyes shift between Daryl and Maggie, but she is the first to rise to her feet. 

“When you came to me with that bullshit yesterday, it was a no. The day before that was a no. What the fuck makes you think my answer today will be any different?”

Daryl gets to his feet as well and has no problem getting in the old man’s face, “The lady said no, which means fuckin’ no. Don’t let me catch you around here beggin’ no more.” 

With that he shoves his way past Gregory, making sure to bump the man’s shoulder on his way out. Gregory shrinks from Daryl’s lingering presence and steps up to Maggie’s desk, he opens his mouth to speak but Maggie cuts him off. “Don’t tempt me into putting you back in that cage, Gregory. I’ve been itching to do it since I let you out.”  
“Now wait a min- “  
“Get. Out.”   
Gregory shifts his eyes from her burning glare and bows to her before taking his leave. He closes the door behind him and Maggie drops back to her seat with a loud sigh. She feels a light kick from her baby and smiles anyway, bringing a hand up to rub over her stomach.

“Don’t you worry, little one,” she says. “I’m gonna make this right for you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Decisions. Daryl has come to hate them, they tend to take choices from the most deserving. When the decision is placed on just one person’s shoulders, one tends to think selfishly, forgetting the needs of those most important around them. Seems like lately each decision has dug the hole deeper and at this point he isn’t so sure he can climb from it this time. Sure, they completed the last steps of the goal without losing many people but in that it seems like they still lost. That’s one of the things that pisses Daryl off the most. They fought so fucking hard to win and all that bastard got was a slap on the wrist. 

Then there are decisions to be made that will certainly and without mercy end the very thing you hold dear in your heart, the decision to separate, to part ways. The decision to love from afar is the one of the hardest Daryl has ever had to contemplate. He told Maggie the other day that his love for Rick had nothing to do with anything, that the decision his lover made was certainly not in the best interest of anyone. Except Negan and his people but fuck them, they don’t count. He had hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt in that moment because his love for Rick does in fact have everything to do with it. 

The feeling of being used like a pawn in a cheap chess game for the man you’re in love with does not feel good at all. In fact, it is beyond painful. Just knowing Rick made those decisions without his opinion whatsoever is bad enough but the one time Daryl really spoke his mind and sought to be heard, it ended up with a fist fight between them. How awful the times were to drive soulmates to lay hands on each other, if that’s what they can even be called anymore. 

Decisions. It’s was all about decisions and it still is. 

Rick left out sometime ago to do whatever the hell he does now some time ago. He had tried to get Daryl to speak his mind on what was wrong, but he wouldn’t. Daryl could barely look at him for wanting shift his teeth another inch or so. When Rick tried to touch him the hunter shoved him away, told him to get on before shit got ugly. Rick’s eyes flashed with hurt but was quickly replaced with the fakest smile he’d ever seen in his life. It was so rehearsed it scared Daryl worse than any of his lover’s outbursts of insanity or rage. It was like Rick had practiced for this moment and knew exactly how to position the plush line of his lips into something pleasant. He said nothing, just turned on his heels and left like nothing happened. That combined with the strained night they had together was too much.

Daryl makes his own decision then. 

He leans on the support of a cigarette to help him arrange all his meager belongings on the bed. A few sleeveless shirts and jeans with holes in each knee along with his few knives. He then takes two of the four guns he and Rick own together. Finally, slides his pack of smokes in his back pocket and situates his crossbow on his back. When has his hand touches the doorknob, he pauses. 

Is this the decision he really wants to make? Is this really going to solve anything or is he being spiteful? Well, to answer the first of those questions, of course not. Daryl has always been one to be honest with himself even in the hardest of times. He still loves his partner, still feels love when he looks at him. However, there are things he simply can’t live with and one of those things is a man who doesn’t value his opinion anymore, doesn’t treat him like an equal, just someone to agree with him when no one else will. Their passion is long gone it seems, gone down the drain with the rest of what was lost during the war. Damnit to put it simply, he’s still in love with Rick. Will this solve anything? Hell if he knows but the decision is made and maybe Rick will see that decisions can be made without his input or knowledge.   
There is no turning back for Daryl has he closes their -Rick’s- bedroom door behind him. 

Decisions. This one may be the death of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is starting to hit the fan!!!

Negan is awake this time when Rick visits him. He’s sitting up against the headboard looking like he’d fall over backward without it. He still looks haggard and weak; his eyes are still half lifeless and sunken in and his skin has gotten even paler since Rick came last. Apparently, having your throat slit has that effect. 

When Negan hears Rick enter he opens his eyes, grunting at the harshness of the artificial light. He doesn’t attempt to speak as he watches the other man signal for the guard to leave them alone. Rick sits down in the chair vacated by the guard and they watch each other for a long moment before Negan breaks the silence. When he speaks, it sounds like he’s been gargling rocks and feels much of the same.

“Well well, looky here. And I thought you’d never come see me.”

Rick says nothing, but a smug grin is etched in his features. 

“If ya ain’t gonna say shit get the chambermaid back in here. I’ve got my pissin’ pants on.” 

Rick shifts forward in his seat, “I think you owe me a thank you.”

Negan scoffs, “For what? Stealing my shit and my people? Brainwashing em into working for you pricks?”

“You would know”, Rick retorts. 

“I saved them. That’s what I did. You went and undid all my good work. That’s not nice, Rick.”

“Carl wrote you a letter.” 

Hearing that makes Negan pause. Carl. What a cool ass kid, far better a man than the one currently sitting in front of him. He could have come up to be one of the leading men in his army. Damn, what a shame. 

“Oh, that’s what this is? You came to read me a bedtime story? Save the bullshit, Rick. He died because you taught him to be ignorant.”

The grin on Rick’s face slips as his eyes narrow. “He died doing something he thought was right. Died helping another person, which is something you clearly know little about. Fuck you for talking ill of him. He would’ve turned out to be a better man than you’ll ever be.” 

Negan smiles weakly at how irritated Rick has become at the mention of his dead son, “He was already better than you. I, on the other hand, would have taught him how to rule the world.”

“I taught you how easily you could be beaten, you fuck”, Rick seethes. He’s on his feet now, standing by the cot, hovering over Negan. 

Negan curses the restraints binding his arms and legs. 

“It was easy to beat me, huh? All the people you lost? You were eager to kill me. Yet, the letter of a dead boy swayed you into saving me. Now, what’s left of your precious family hates you and my people respect you. What do you think that says about you, hm?“

Rick’s hands around his throat cuts Negan off in a blinding burst of pain. The rough hand over the healing cut makes it hard to breathe and Negan finds himself coughing around the discomfort.

“Shut the fuck up”, Rick orders. Negan can feel spittle coming from Rick’s lips and he struggles. The pressure on his wound is barely bearable now and Rick knows it. 

“That makes me and you more similar than you’re willing to realize. Seems like Rick the Prick has taken my place. You’re gonna be kicked outta here soon enough, forced to relocate because the people who’s lives you saved countless times have lost faith in you. My people will follow you now, they’re too weak to go on without me. Most of them are useless by the way, but I’m sure the Sanctuary can be rebuilt, asshole.” 

“I said Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Rick’s eyes are a blaze of dignified rage, his hand tightens and renders Negan speechless. “I came to gloat. You should be dead now but you being alive is what Carl wanted. He spoke about honor and mercy in the letter he wrote to you. My family is no concern of yours.”

Rick releases Negan with a hateful shove and steps away, he’s almost out of the room when he stops. He takes several moments to regain his composure before he turns back, letting a smile stretch his lips. It feels just as foreign and fake as the rest of them, but Rick is satisfied to see pain engraved across his enemy’s face. He must have broken a couple of the stitches there; the white bandage around his throat is showing red. It brings him a savage happiness. 

“You know what we did with your precious Lucille? We burned it and whatever memory you associate with it, alive. You lay there and think about that.” 

As he’s leaving, Rick hears a faint “Fuck you” reaching pathetically out to him and he ignores it. 

~~~~~

Rick notices something is wrong, that something is missing as soon as he enters his and Daryl’s bedroom. He has an inkling of what it is, but Daryl would never. He just wouldn’t. Rick steps quickly to the closet, only to find his few shirts hanging there and none of his partner’s. Maybe one of the few he owns was damaged and he’s wearing the only other one. Or, Daryl went on one of his hunting trips and took some extra clothes with him. Rick’s mind mocks him with knowing that Daryl wouldn’t take extra clothes with him out there. He likes to travel lightly, needing only his weapon and knife. 

No. It still can’t be. He tosses the room for any remaining sign of Daryl, pulling open the drawers only to find two of the four guns they own together are there. That’s not common, Daryl usually carries only one. Rick looks to the bed, it’s made up like neither of them had slept there in some time. 

“Not now, Daryl. C’mon, not now!” Rick says aloud, his frustration echoing off nothing but the walls. 

His fingers push back the curls falling into his eyes as he sits down at the foot of the bed. Rick finally allows himself to acknowledge that Daryl is gone and doesn’t seem to be coming back. The agony of it hits Rick and it takes all his strength not to weep. “I only did what I thought was right!”

 

_Did you?_

 

Rick gasps, the voice is so familiar it honestly scares him. Memories flood his mind in flashes of light so bright it should have lit up the entire room. Bedtime stories after a late night of pizza and movies, shooing away scary monsters from the closet and under the bed. The first puppy love crush. Lessons on fighting, leading, and firing a gun. Crying as a bloody newborn baby is placed in his arms, having just been carved from its mother’s womb with nothing but strength and bravery. The last time he brushed back that too long, walnut colored hair. Sitting his old cop hat atop a head much too smart for its own good.

He’s searching for the voice, reaching out to it desperately with shaking hands only to come back with nothing. 

 

_Is this who you wanted to be…Dad?_

 

Turning in circles, Rick continues to search for that voice he had longed so dearly to hear again. The pitch of it is lowered into that of a man. “What…I don’t understand. The letter-you said.” He trips over something he had knocked to the floor and it brings him helplessly to his knees. “You said…” Rick hates the feeble tone of his own voice, so sick of hearing the pathetic tone. Straining his ears brings him nothing but silence and Rick thinks he’ll go mad all over again. It takes several breaths to hush his panic and even when he does it’s only just barely.

A hesitant knock at the door startles Rick and he rises to answer it, throwing it open in hopes that it’s Daryl or... 

“What.” 

Tara’s eyes slide over Rick’s shoulder, taking in the mess he’s made of his room. He notices the concern written in her eyes but with a dismissing shake of her head, it’s gone. “Maggie has started the meeting.” 

Rick closes his bedroom door behind him, suddenly self-conscious of the mess she has witnessed and gestures for her to show him. Along the way, he tries to piece together a smile. He holds his head high and is painfully aware that Tara is watching him as they walk. There will be certain scrutiny from his people and he has to be strong enough to face them and stand by his actions. 

He can’t, this is all too much too fast, he’s unable to keep up with the grueling pace. Negan, though he hates to admit it, has cut open the festering wounds he’s been trying so hard to cover up and justify. Rick understands what Morgan told him now. Sometimes things are just too much to handle. Unknowingly, he’s been standing far too close to the chasm again, looking down at a blackened abyss. Like the other times, the possibilities of his capabilities in madness is endless and frightening. All it will take now is one push, one gentle brush of wind against his back and he’ll be gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Maggie vs. Rick!!
> 
> All aboard the feel train!

The room is set up specifically for meetings with it’s long, oval-shaped table with matching chairs to go around it. The ex-saviors are grouped by the back wall, obviously not favorable enough to have a seat for themselves. With an apologetic smile, Tara leaves his side and settles herself in the only empty chair around the table. Rick doesn’t know whether he’s surprised or not at there not being a seat saved for him. He stays standing where he is by the door, not attempting to be with them or with the ex-Saviors. His spot is right by the door and he supposes that is fitting if what Negan said has any truth to it. 

Immediately, Rick’s eyes find Daryl in a spot that is so like him. He’s perched silently on the window pane with one leg pulled up encircled by both arms. His spot is separate from the Hilltopers but definitely not close to the ex-Saviors by any means. Daryl’s head turns at his arrival and their eyes meet, Rick can easily read the guard he has up. Daryl is trying for indifference towards him and is failing. Rick can feel his anguish from the across the room and hopes his partner can feel the same coming from him. 

Maggie’s voice comes to a halt when she realizes Rick arrived with Tara, her disapproval lands on Tara first, then drifts over to Daryl before her glare lands on Rick. Rick lifts his chin in defiance of her but Maggie says nothing to him. Those who’s back are to him turn in their seats to look, their eyes showing much of the same. Except for Michonne and Carol who give him a twin set of light smiles. The ex-Saviors all nod to him and Rick is not comfortable with that at all. He’s not one of them and doesn’t want to be, all he did was try to give them a second chance. For the first time, Rick can see how the sides have turned on him and the irony turns his stomach. He doesn’t want the Saviors. He wants his family and friends, his partner, their love. 

With a careful clearing of her throat and a moment to wrestle her emotions back into order, Maggie resumes. “Alright, what I would like to see happen is we put together sets of run groups and designate people to oversee different parts of strengthening our home. We need this to be organized so if problems arise there is someone specific to turn to. Does everyone agree to that?”

Every head in the room nods, including the ex-Saviors. Rick doesn’t, he knows he’s not a part of this  
.  
Maggie grins, “Good. I have a couple of ideas of who I want to oversee each part. If any of you disagree, please speak up.” She pauses. “Except you Saviors, you will take the decisions made as they are. You are not trusted enough to share your opinion. You’d do well to accept that.” 

A murmur amongst the ex-Saviors is heard. “Beg pardon? Do any of you have something to say?”, Maggie challenges. When none is heard she continues. “After careful consideration, I have appointed Jesus to be my advisor. His job is to make sure my decisions are what is best and he will let me know if they are not. His job is very important and if any of you have a problem with a decision I’ve made, please let him know and he will bring it to me. I know what it’s like when one person has all of the say, things can turn out badly.”

The jab at Rick is obvious. Jesus smiles and everyone agrees. The corner of Rick’s upper lip curls. 

“Okay. Next will be the run groups. I want at least three so that the danger is shared more equally amongst everyone. I don’t want the same people going out each time, everyone needs time to recover. I have picked who I want to be leaders and who will be their second in command. The offer stands here as well to disagree.” She waits for another round of nods before she begins, “ Ezekiel, you will be the leader of the first group and Jerry will be your second.”

“As you wish, my Queen.” Ezekiel agrees. 

“Hell yeah!” Jerry exclaims and does a little dance, his chair creaking under his weight. 

Maggie chuckles, “Carol. I want you to lead the second group. If Morgan can be convinced to join us, I’d like him to second you.” 

Jesus stands with his hands clasped behind his back, cutting Rick off before sound can leave his lips. “I tried to convince him, ma’am, but he refused to come back. When I went back to the trash heap this morning, all of his things were gone and he was nowhere to be found.” With that he sits down, putting in obvious effort to avoid Rick’s stare. 

It doesn’t surprise Rick that Morgan isn’t coming back, the look in his eye said as much. He was just too hardheaded to see it at the time. 

“I’ll be her second.” Michonne raises a hand and wiggles her fingers and Carol pats her on the shoulder. The look on Carol’s face is not readable. It’s difficult to read the hardened woman she’s become sometimes.

“Agreed,” Maggie says. “Daryl. I want you to lead the third group.” 

Daryl’s head snaps up, “Why?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Don’t need no second.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Daryl huffs and shakes his head. 

Maggie turns her attention to Rick so she can make sure he understands, “Aaron will be your second.”

 

Rick feels his blood run hot. Aaron prefers the company of men and has shown interest in Daryl more times than just once. 

 

“Does everyone agree to that?” she asks. 

Again, there are smiles and nods all around. 

“Now. For the rebuilding of Hilltop I want-“

“I understand you being upset with me. I would think we could discuss this privately without you humiliating me in front of everyone,” Rick cuts in. 

“Excuse me?” Maggie asks. “I’m not humiliating you, I’m showing you what good leadership looks like. I’m asking their opinions instead of making the decisions based only on what I want.”

“I made my decision based on the hopes that we could move on past violence. To start something new that’s not drenched in blood!” 

Maggie makes a sound close to that of a snarl, “It is drenched in blood! Abraham’s blood, Sasha’s blood. Daryl’s blood, mine, Glenn’s…Carl’s! You asked for this, how could you shy from it at the last moment?” 

“Don’t say his name….” Rick warns. 

“No. I will because this fucking war took everything from me, from all of us! Not one time did you stop and ask our opinion on anything. You drug us along and used us like game pieces.”

Rick takes a step towards the table, “I was trying the best I could to protect everyone. Tried to live up my son’s last expectations of me. He wanted honor and mercy and that’s what I did. You think I wanted to let Negan live? Think I didn’t want to let him bleed out like he deserved to? You’re wrong. You’re. All. Wrong.” He points to the ex-Saviors who are smiling proudly at him, “Stop fucking smiling at me. I didn’t do what I did for you personally. I am not your leader nor do I want to be.” 

To Maggie, he says, “ I am sorry. For everything. You will learn that leading doesn’t guarantee you have a say in what goes on around you. I found that out the moment Negan stepped outta his van. You pin this on me, every bump and bruise you have and I won’t take that.”

Maggie comes around the table to stand a few feet from Rick. No one moves, they all know that Rick would never harm Maggie that way. “I will do what you failed to do. Since you wanted that bastard alive, he will be. But he will suffer and as of now, you will have no say in how he lives or dies. As of now, you have no say in anythang.” 

The anger emanating off both her and Rick is enough to rekindle the sun at night. They stare each other down, each fueled with hurt at having their wounds slashed open so publicly.

Rick forces himself down to a warm simmer, he ducks his head to look Maggie in the eye. “I only ever tried to do what was right. If I could trade my life for theirs, trust me, I would.” He doesn’t see the subtle softening of Maggie’s eyes for his gaze has shifted to Daryl who is avidly gnawing his thumbnail. He tries to convey an apology for he understands everything he was hellbent on ignoring. 

Daryl’s eyebrows furrow, finally looking up to meet his lover’s eyes. The loving look Rick needs is not quite there and he simply can’t deal with that right now. The darkness he’s feared is closing in. 

Rick looks around meeting each pair of eyes he can, some of the looks he receives have shifted from what they were when he first entered. Some of them are the same and he suspects they will never change. 

“Thanks for the invite,” he says and leaves, taking his final step over the chasm and into the abyss.


	7. Chapter 7

_Tick_  
_Tok_  
_Tick_  
_Tok…_

That damn clock on the wall is about to drive Daryl insane. With all the shouting and arguing between Maggie and Rick, the damn thing dared not make a sound. Now it won’t shut up. After Rick’s explosive exit, Maggie had resumed with the rest of the meeting. She tried to act like nothing was wrong but a blind person could see how shaken she was. No one saw fit to press the issue perhaps out of fear or awe of what they’d just witnessed. She goes on to put people in charge of wall repairs and reinforcement. People were then assigned to keep watch over the food and armory. Those were things Daryl couldn’t bring himself to be bothered with. The only thing he tuned his ear to was the discussion on how Negan would be treated from now on. Starting with how his rations were to be shortened down to nothing and he would not be bathed unless permission came from Maggie herself. Her eyes displayed much darker plans than just that but were not stated.

Everyone gave cheer to that, high fived each other and rejoiced in getting some of their revenge. 

Daryl’s attention is somewhere else entirely. 

His eyes are glued to the door his partner slammed behind him. He’s replaying the way their eyes met when Rick entered and before he left. Daryl had tried to show some type of indifference towards his ex-leader but they’ve been together too long. For so long their survival depended on the reading of each other’s eyes. Intimacy used to come with that but the understanding of those looks remain. 

The look Rick gave Daryl before he left was almost pleading, a last-ditch effort to be understood or even forgiven. His eyes showed none of that fake ass bravado he’d been playing at for weeks. There were no remnants of the righteousness that had been driving Daryl to distraction. Just pain. Hurt. Fear. Anger. 

Rick had the look of a lost lamb amongst a vicious pack of wolves and he was asking Daryl silently for help he ultimately didn’t receive. In that moment, time stretched out into one eternity after the other. Each one was longer than the last and the only thing that could be heard was that fucking clock on the wall over Maggie’s head. Why the fuck do they have one anyway, what does it matter? All it did was remind Daryl that time is indeed running out and eternities do end.

Yet, Daryl had been frozen in place, his thumbnail tucked between his teeth. The clock increased its sound and speed until it was screaming in his ears. He couldn’t fucking _think_. He couldn’t move but god, how he wanted to. 

Rick had frowned, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. He turned his back then, disappearing off to a place where Daryl couldn’t follow. 

The clock comes to a halt, but it comes without relief. Time has run out. 

The rude noises of reality around him come back. Daryl’s ears are ringing with memories and an overwhelming amount of calamity going on around him. 

He wishes for Carl instantly. He has not allowed himself to truly mourn over the loss. He was the son Daryl never really thought he’d have. Carl, in his own way, taught Daryl many things and it had been amazing to see him grow up. He was just starting to come into his own and had started showing signs of his father’s intelligence and courage. He was the spitting image of his mother, rest her soul, but his personality and drive were almost identical to Rick’s. His loss has drilled a hole large enough in Daryl’s soul to dive into and never resurface. Daryl knows he ain’t the best with words and long-winded confessions, but he loved -loves- Carl and wishes things could be anything unlike they are now. 

In losing Carl, he’s lost his other half and he’s unaccustomed now to feeling this empty and helpless. 

Maybe there’s been a clock hanging over his head all along, winding down the time until it reached exactly zero then forced its way past even that. In which time would no longer matter and his victory would simply refuse to hold its own weight. If Daryl had known he was being timed, if he had just seconds to save the lives of both his partner and son, he would have done something more. He should have done more. Though, at the time, he feels he did everything he could short of shedding the skin off his own back to clothe them. 

Now he’s left with nothing but more responsibilities to yet another cause he could give a shit less about. 

Daryl misses the last of the meeting in his realization that he wants his partner back come hell or high water. Rick’s look of desperation and need shook him to his core. That pain is not something he could have faked in an effort to win him over. He’s seen that look before, indicating that Rick may be spiraling out of control again. 

Another decision is made. Clock or no clock, timed or not, he will make this right if nothing else. 

The meeting room is now empty and that wretched clock has resumed its taunting. Daryl stomps over to it, yanks it off the wall and smashes it. He’ll handle time from now on, not the other way around.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are lengthy!

Carol’s muscles are tense as she sits on a bench in the common area to clean her gun. Her back is in knots from sitting so long and she winces slightly when she leans over to grab a weapon part to insert it back into place. Being hit by that car has done her no favors and really, she’s lucky to even be alive. That and all the physical fights she has been in with men in particular, in one instance even being body slammed by Morgan. 

She thinks back to the times she’s been shot and how the raised scars look when she’s alone. It’s hard to look at her own naked flesh in the mirror. The scars her late husband left behind have faded but she still aches with the memory. Then there are the scars she’s earned in various fights. Her hands don’t even look the same anymore, they are littered with tiny marks and her palms are rough with callouses. Carol shakes her head mentally, she never thought she’d make it this far. 

She thinks of Sophia, her precious daughter. Carol winces inwardly at all the things she unwillingly put the child through. She realized a long time ago that it wasn’t entirely her fault. She was just trying to make it through a marriage that felt more like a prison sentence than a commitment. Ed, the spineless bastard, finally got what he deserved. 

For a long time, she still felt a lingering pang of guilt over that but Daryl helped her through. That’s what started their friendship all those lifetimes ago. The kind, simple gesture of a Cherokee rose was all it took to open her eyes to the possibility that people could care for her. It came from a complete stranger at that. A stranger who eventually became one the closest to her in all the world. 

She has changed since then, into someone she can barely recognize. Now, she’s one of the best shots around and is more than capable in any situation. People are frightened by how easily she can switch from the friendly cookie baker to a determined killer. It’s all about adaptation and she’s become a master at it.  


Carol shifts in her place at the bench, rolling her head to loosen some of the tighter muscles in her neck and slides the last part of her gun into place. Such change does not come without a price and she’s definitely paying it today.

Maggie appears by her side. Her new leader sits with the confidence of one, posture straight and unwilling to bend. She supposes it’s not just the leadership role that’s got her this way. The way she’s carrying herself is almost rigid. It’s like she’s trying to hold herself together, to add up to the responsibility riding her shoulders now. There’s something else there as well, Carol can tell by the still shaken look in her brown eyes. She’s hiding it fairly well, but Carol knows hurt when she sees it. It’s something she can look in the mirror anytime and see for herself.

She reaches for a rag and starts to go over her weapon, ridding it of any residue and grime. She waits for Maggie to speak. 

“Hey,” is all her friend says. Carol doesn’t miss how her hand slides to her middle to glide protectively over her baby bump. 

Carol nods her head in greeting, “What can I do for you?”

“I want your group to be the first to head out in an hour.”

“Alright. Where?”

Maggie thinks for a moment, inclining her chin in thought. Her fingers tap restlessly against the wood of the bench. “My scouting group spotted an old furniture building. It’s almost a days ride from here, give or take. I’m hoping there’s some wood left lying around from the unbuilt pieces. I want yall to see if any of it can be salvaged.”

Carol thinks as she finishes up with her weapon, turning it expertly in her hands to inspect it. “I’ll let Michonne know and we’ll be on our way.”

“Sounds good,” Maggie agrees. 

With a quiet groan, Carol gets up from her seat and straps her gun over her back. Her hand presses warmly to Maggie’s shoulder and she closes her eyes at the friendly touch. “I’m going to be honest with you,” Carol speaks. “I saw the look on Rick’s face back at the meeting. I really think he meant what he said. There’s plenty of evidence to show he tried his best to get us here. And I think he’s right, everything that happened wasn’t his fault. We can be mad about his decision but we can’t pin everything we lost on him. At least, I can’t.”

Maggie’s eyes pop open at the mention of Rick, she doesn’t want to talk about this so soon. 

“Never said it was, Carol,” she says defensively, shrugging Carol’s hand off her shoulder. Carol lets her hand drop to her side without argument. 

“I know. The man has been alienated from the only family he’s ever known since the beginning. Many of us were together before meeting you at the farm. Don’t mistake this as me telling you you don’t belong. I want to let you know just how deep the love Rick has for us runs. He didn’t do this for the Saviors, he really did want to do right by his son. I know the pain of losing a child. I pray that’s something you’ll never have to face.”

With that, Carol adjusts her gun on her back and turns to leave. She pauses and returns to Maggie’s side where she’s sitting still as a statue. “I’m going to ask Rick if he will come with us. You and him may have your problems but he’s still my friend. I want Enid too, she could use the practice.” Her voice has that familiar tone to it when she expects no dispute on her decision.

Maggie pushes her fingers through her hair, her mind racing with too many new things to think about. Before she can answer, Carol is walking away. 

“Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Please.” 

That’s all she can muster in agreement. She has no idea if Carol hears her. 

Off in the distance, Maggie can see Gregory in the cage.

Oh yeah. She had forgotten she put him in there before the council meeting and that was days ago. She gets up from the bench somehow feeling even more weighed down. She’s exhausted and the heat is doing nothing to help. Gregory’s eyes are closed against the glare of sunlight when Maggie approaches. He’s sitting in the dirt, his suit is almost a different shade of grey with all the dust staining it. His shirt is unbuttoned down to his chest and that awful tie is loosened and hanging to the side.  


There’s not an ounce of shade in the cell and Maggie can’t bring herself to feel much sympathy for him. Still, she doesn’t want him dying of heat stroke out in front of everyone. 

She opens the gate and leaves it swinging open as she steps to the side. “Get up,” She orders. 

Gregory opens his eyes slowly, his lips crack around his rasp. “Thought you’d forgot about me. Can’t have these good people seeing you treating their former leader so badly.” He stays sitting where he is, cross-legged and pathetic. 

Maggie reaches for her keys, “If you ain't gonna get up, maybe a few more days will change your mind.” 

“No no!” Gregory stands to his feet and is before her in amazing quickness. “You should have let me be in that meeting, Margret – Maggie- I could have shed some light on the subject.” 

Maggie scoffs. “I really should have killed you myself for the times you betrayed us. Get yourself some damn water and get outta my sight before I put you back in there.”  


Gregory doesn’t waste time arguing. He scurries from Maggie, chancing a look over his shoulder at her. The look in his eyes show fear and from him, that’s exactly what she wants. 

~~~~

Rick stares down at his Colt Python, savoring the familiar weight of it in his hands. He’s surprised Maggie or Jesus haven’t come to take it from him. Seems like the next thing to do, he guesses, to take away the very last and smallest of things he still owns. He turns his weapon in his experienced hands, watching the sun glint off the several scratches its got from great use. 

Used to be he could remember every face of life he took with it but it’s been so many by now. So many living and unliving he’s put down in the surge of battle with barely a glance at the features. His python used to be his greatest tool of power, his personal battle cry forged from the will to see another sunrise with his family.  


Since the council meeting, it only serves as a painful reminder of what he used to be. How his people used to gravitate to his sound and rally in with their own. Nothing could stop them then, and really, nothing can stop them now. Rick just wishes things were different. 

He gets Maggie’s point and has never thought of her as his enemy. Even now, she’s so sure she’s doing the right thing and he can’t fault her for that. Her points were valid but so were his, damn it. So were his. She’s still a friend, still a life he would save even if it ended his own. Rick knows her motherly instincts are one of the true sources of her fierce leadership. She’s willing to do exactly what he was willing to. She will have no problem destroying anything that stands between her child and its survival. 

However, that still doesn’t erase the bitterness he has towards her. He’s never liked being talked to in the way Maggie had dared to. Rick despises being humiliated and that’s exactly what that felt like. Doesn’t she see he’s been degraded enough? Forced to swallow the unthinkable by the mouthful? 

There’s nothing he can do about it now, he supposes. Just one more thing to deal with along with countless other things. One of them is sleeping -laying- in a bed that used to be so full of love. Now it feels like laying down in a fucking grave. The covers feel like layers of dirt over his body instead of comfort so he’s been sleeping on the floor at night, curled up amongst his growing madness. In fact, that’s the only neat thing in his room right now. Daryl’s side has been kept the way he had it with exactly one pillow without its case. He never could stand something that soft under his head, “Didn’t have none growin’ up, don’ need it now,” he’d always say. 

How great those times were. 

Something calls Rick’s attention and he raises his eyes from his python. His eyes narrow to slits when he spots Daryl and his “second” strolling down the street together. Aaron has pen and paper in hand on a clipboard, he appears to be asking his partner questions. Daryl answers them with his customary nods but when he disagrees, he stops Aaron with a hand on the man’s elbow and pulls him close to squint at the paper. Rick knows Daryl can’t see that well up close, but far off the man can see anything in light or darkness. His partner seems to be pointing out some things on the paper and Aaron leans in close to follow along. Rick’s teeth grind together at how unnecessarily close Aaron is, his shoulder brushes against Daryl’s and he makes sure their fingers touch when he hands Daryl the pen to jot something down. 

They may not live together anymore but an official breakup was never announced to him and Rick will be damned if Aaron gets what’s his. 

Daryl doesn’t seem to notice Aaron’s subtle flirtation. His second slides his body a little closer but is almost thrown off balance when Daryl starts walking again. The man lengthens his steps to catch up and places his hand on the hunter’s shoulder. 

Rick’s hand tightens around his pistol, his thumb pulling back the hammer without a second thought. Aaron is free to move on from Eric if he chooses but Daryl is still off limits. He breaks out in a cold sweat even the dead heat of summer. His heart shudders with anticipation and he briefly wonders what Maggie will do when she hears of Aaron’s untimely demise. 

Another yard or so and he’ll be well within firing range. Rick smiles for the first time in days, lips pulling up into a sick grin. 

Just a few more feet now. 

The python raises, ready to strike. Rick can already taste the gunpowder. 

 

Footsteps. The light tread startles Rick and he fumbles with the safety mechanism before placing it beside him. He can almost hear the python’s hiss of displeasure at being kept from its task. Reluctantly, Rick looks away from the two men to find Carol standing there, adorned in her Kingdom armor. Her rifle is strapped to her back, waiting to be aimed and fired. Without a word, she sits down next to him. Rick wipes sweat from his forehead, trying to act like he wasn’t about to kill someone in cold blood. 

“Sure you wanna be seen with me?” he asks.

She turns her head to study him, her pale eyes watching him closely. She ignores his poor attempt at a joke. “You were up to something.”

Rick plays dumb, “Dunno what you mean. Just sitting here in exile is all.”

“No, you were up to something and I wanna know what it is.”

Rick can’t help but flick his eyes to where Daryl and Aaron were just a second ago. They’re still in sight but he’ll lose them soon if he doesn’t get Carol away. 

“Nothing. Seriously. Look, can we talk later?” 

“Why?” Carol asks.  
“Because.”  
“Because…why?” she pushes. 

Rick can feel his patience slipping. He’ll shoot as soon as she’s out of sight. She’d surely hear the gunshot but he doesn’t care. He wants her gone. He needs her gone.  


Her eyes follow look in the direction his eyes had strayed to but she doesn’t see anything, she missed them and so did he. 

When Rick turns to see Daryl and Aaron have disappeared, he wants to scream with frustration. Carol has cost him his chance. Damn her.

He sighs loudly, “I said nothing. What is it?”

The older woman raises an eyebrow and it’s a while before she speaks. Rick feels like crawling out of his skin under yet another bout of scrutiny. 

“My group and I are headed out to an old furniture building. Maggie wants us to find anything we can salvage to bring back. It’s almost a days ride. Pack what you need and meet us at the car within the hour.” 

Rick doesn’t move nor answer, he’s too eaten up with irritation and too many other things to name. Carol flicks him on the end of his nose and Rick bats her hand away with a huff. 

“Get moving. Maybe you’ll prove something to our new leader. If you’re lucky.”

Rick gets no chance at a rebuttal before she heads back down the street in the same direction Daryl and Aaron had.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every comment, view, and kudo!! Thanks!

Daryl sits silently, looking over the plans Aaron had left with him. He flicks ash from his cigarette and places it back between his teeth. The plan should work, but there are some tweaks to it he still wants to make and Aaron is far too eager to help. Daryl had noticed the man’s flirting but he ignored it, he hadn’t felt like addressing it and really, he didn’t need to. Aaron’ll catch on soon enough that Daryl couldn’t be further from being interested if he tried. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is the part in this plan where Aaron thinks he’ll be stuck to his side like glue. Ain’t happenin’.

He inhales the smoke and holds it, letting it come out the corner of his mouth. He holds the page a ways from him and squints. Damn eyes, he can’t see shit up close. Another hit from his smoke and he can feel the burn of the filter between his fingers. He flicks it to the side, looking up at the sound of tiny feet coming his way. 

Daryl smiles his first true smile in days. “Hey Asskicker, whatcha doing?”

Judith’s eyes are bright in this type of sun, the brown color so unlike Rick’s is startling and precious. Her hair is combed up in a single ponytail, a few strands of blonde straying from the hair tie. Daryl catches a glimpse of what she may look like in several years. She’ll be just as beautiful then as she is now. He’ll be damned if the youngin’ don’t live to see her awkward teenage years and far beyond that. 

“Nuthin. Wanted to see ya.”

She hops up to sit beside Daryl and he slides an arm around her. 

“Dare?”

“Yea?” He’s concerned with the sadness he hears. 

“I like it Rosita n all but why can’t I stay with you and Daddy no more?”

Her voice is so small, she sounds lost and abandoned. Daryl hopes she don’t feel that way, but the hang of her head tells him otherwise. He chews his lip then sets the page beside him to chew at his thumbnail. He needs another smoke.

“Your Daddy and I been mean to each other lately.” 

Judith looks up at him in question. Daryl hopes he didn’t give more information than what is needed. 

“Cuz of me? Daddy said I was gonna spend the night with Aunt Rosi, but it’s been a long time now. And…Daddy’s been looking sad. You have too.”

Daryl could cry. Instead, he lifts her little chin up with gentle fingers and looks her in the eyes. “You listen ta me. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, Jude. Ya been perfect. You’re Daddy and I got grown-up stuff going on and it’s best we not be together right now. You didn’t do nuthin’ wrong but not give me my hug.”

That gets a small smile out of her. Her little arms wrap around Daryl as far as they can and she buries her face against his chest. Daryl is helpless to resist that, his arms pulling her close in a vow to never let her go. 

“I miss Carl,” she whispers so low Daryl barely hears her. “I miss you and Daddy together, miss being with ya’ll. Everyone is sad or mad and it’s no good. Want us to be a family again, Dare.” 

A tear escapes down Daryl’s cheek but he doesn’t move to wipe it, his little girl’s pain don’t deserve to be erased like that. With a kiss to her golden crown, he pulls away from her so she can see his face, so she can read the truth in his eyes. 

“I miss Carl too, sweetheart. Miss us being with your Daddy, too. Can’t fix everything but I will fix our family the best I can.”

“Kay.” Judith fits herself back to Daryl’s chest and he holds her there, savoring each breath she takes.

~~~~

Rick notices how sure Enid looks of herself when they arrive to the furniture place. The road leading into the parking lot is mostly gravel, aside from the grass starting to grow through. The transport trucks are still backed up to the front like business as usual and he wonders if any gas can be siphoned out of them.

On cue, Carol commands they check the trucks for gas or if they can still be cranked. He hears murmurs of obedience, sounds of the group pulling out their knives in favor of their guns. Rick watches her closely, distantly proud of how great she’s become. She’s studying the outside of the building while listening with well-trained ears to their surroundings. She stands still, only her eyes move as they rove over the various things left outside, barrels turned over, the distinct sound of an animal playing in trash. 

DARRAN Furniture is the name of the place. It’s large and is built sturdy. Rick wonders what their new leader’s true plans are for this place. Negan’s words ego in his head:

_You’re gonna be kicked outta here soon enough. Forced to relocate because the people who’s lives you saved countless times have lost faith in you_

Maybe he was right. Maybe Maggie is planning on exiling him from the Hilltop, dooming him to live here with the ex-Saviors for the rest of his days. Rick scoffs. Like hell he would. 

 

“Alright people, outside looks good. I want three circling the rest of the perimeter. I want two more as lookouts over our vehicle and for anyone or anything else coming. Rick. Enid. You’re with me.” The authority in Carol’s voice sends everyone to their designated spots. 

They enter carefully, Carol in front with her rifle raised flanked closely on either side by Rick and Enid. Rick’s python stands proud in the semi-darkness and Enid is thrumming with energy, her knife raised firmly in her fist. Their heads swivel left and right in unison and so far there are no signs of anyone or anything dangerous.  


Inside is rather large. Old abandoned pieces of furniture are laying where they were knocked over, dust settled in layers over the once shiny surfaces. The conveyor belts have at least forty different pieces on them, it’s clear some were knocked over in the rush to leave. 

“Seems like the world ended on a busy day, huh?” Enid says conversationally. Both Carol and Rick grunt as they approach an overhead piece. 

Rick puts his python in the back of his pants as he kneels to analyze it. It’s a weird grey piece designed with small lines in it that are a darker tent of the same color. Rick runs his hand over the surface, unsurprised by the smoothness of it. Beneath it lay a colored piece of paper with writing on it. “Must be the ticket,” he murmurs. He tilts his head to read the paper out of curiosity, “Says the name of this is Tech-Grain. Hm.” His eyes widen when he sees the price, Carol looks over his shoulder to look as well. 

“Eleven hundred for this?” Carol asks incredulously. “Who would ever pay that for…that?” 

Rick shakes his head and drops the ticket, “Material things used to mean so much.”

“Wonder if they’ve got an ottoman chair around here. I always thought they were cute.” Enid chimes in. 

“We’re not bringing back anything other than what Maggie wants us to have,” Carol chides and the young girl falls silent with a nod. 

Running his hand over the surface once more, Rick speaks. “Looks like this shit is only put together with a few screws and a whole lotta glue. Wouldn’t take much to take it apart if we can’t find the wood they made these pieces from.”

Carol and Enid both agree and they all set off in search. 

The concrete floor is slick with dust. The ceiling and floor fans are caked with it. Rick breaks out in a sweat and he can tell this place used to be as hot inside as the outside before the turn. There are shelves upon shelves of rejected parts. Carol and Rick agree to check that out before they leave. 

Rounding the corner brings them to a door with a faded sign on it: **Not an exit. Do not bring food or drink into the finishing room**

Cautiously, they approach the door. Enid eagerly steps forward to bang on it with the hilt of her knife. Inside, the low groaning sounds of the undead reach them even through the thickness of the door. Enid steadies her grip on her knife and quiets her nerves, she’s nervous now and doesn’t want to let Carol down. Despite everything else, Rick is basically a walker killing legend and she would hate to make him think badly of her if she messes up. She looks side to side for approval before her hand touches the doorknob. Carol has switched to her knife but Rick’s python has raised again, his hatchet gleaming a bright, blood red in his hand. Both of them slide into position with ease, their years of experience obvious. 

“Open the door, then move. Rick and I go in first,” Carol orders. Enid nods and blows out a breath. She flings open the door and sidesteps her group as they rush forward. 

There are several walkers inside, the first one they meet is a man in a large green shirt. His glasses are broken and his grey hair is sticking out from what used to be his scalp. With minimal effort, Carol takes it down and shoves him to the side. Beside Enid a woman appears with a blood-stained rag wrapped around her head, she has a dark navy blue uniform on that’s splattered with blood as well. The women grabs for her but Enid is already stabbing at her head. She misses, giving the walker the opportunity to get in close. The young girl wants to scream but she doesn’t, Rick and Carol need to know she can handle herself. The walker grabs her shoulders with surprising strength and Enid is momentarily pinned to the wall. Desperately, she kicks the thing in its knee and whatever is left of the joint gives way. The walker topples over and Enid wastes no time in putting her knife in its brain. 

Impulsively, she takes the rag wrapped around the woman’s hair off. The lady’s hair is dark and long where it fell down over her shoulders and face. Enid can tell the woman used to take great pride in the upkeep of her hair and for a moment she feels sadness. 

Carol shouts, attracting the attention of the young girl. She drives her knife into the eye of another female walker but doesn’t watch as it folds over to the ground. Rick is in a tangle with two walkers and he cuts one down with his hatchet. He pistol whips another, knocking its jaw off it then, in the next second, its head is knocked off its shoulders. There a splotch of blood on the wall where the head lands and it hits the floor with a nasty wet sound. 

Rick’s eyes go to Enid to check her safety and he misses two walkers creeping up behind him. One is heavy set still and the other is tall and thin. Carol shouts for him to watch out and throws her knife. It flies over Rick’s shoulder, sticking blade first in the thing’s head. Rick whirls on instinct and pulls Carol’s knife out before the walker falls and uses it to slice at the last walker’s head. It falls in a pile of rotten flesh at his feet and silence falls around them. 

Enid is in awe. 

Carol walks up to Rick and with a ghost of smile he hands back her knife. They nod to each other in thanks without the need for words. Their leader turns to find Enid standing there, she notes the awestruck look on the girl’s face and rolls her eyes. 

“C’mon, let’s check that back room.” 

Enid obeys, wondering how they can be so unbothered by all of the blood around them. The blood covering them is worn with bored nonchalance. They don’t even wipe at their clothes in disgust like she’s seen so many others do. She looks around seeing all the pieces on buggies are connected to a thing in the floor she guesses is used to the move the furniture from station to station. There’s debris all over the floor. She’s not surprised Rick nor Carol tripped on anything. They’ve been doing this too long to make an amateur mistake like that. 

Rick and Carol make it the back room first. The double door used to be a faded blue but now, like everything else, it’s covered in smears of blood. There are all kinds of warnings signs stuck to it still and Enid is now even more nervous at entering another closed room. She follows anyway. 

Rick is the one who opens the door first this time, leaving Enid to take the position he held first. That only serves to heighten her anxiety but she grips her knife and copies the stance Carol has. Rick bangs hard on the door with his hatchet and they wait for more sounds of the undead. When they hear none, Rick opens just one of the doors and Carol heads in first. Enid follows her steps while Rick brings up the rear. 

It’s much darker in here, the rank smell of old chemicals makes it hard for her to breathe. There are barrels of the chemicals lined up against both sides of the small room and Enid doesn’t like this at all. At least in the last place, there was room, if something happens in here it could be much more dangerous. 

The floor is wood unlike the concrete of the rest of the place. It creaks under their feet and the young girl winces, hoping something or someone can’t hear every step they take. Rick notices her slowing foot falls and gently nudges her forward. “You’re alright,” he whispers low so Carol can’t hear. His words of encouragement don’t erase her growing fear. They do make her feel somewhat better like the older man believes in her. It leads her to completely doubt Rick is the monster everyone has been saying he is. 

“I’ll have to talk to Maggie and Jesus about coming back here for some of these chemicals. Flammable fluids are much more valuable these days.” Carols says. 

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Rick answers. 

Soon, Carol comes to a stop with a huff. They all agree there’s nothing they need at the moment in here and make to leave. There’s not any of the original wood laying around that the furniture was made from so they settle for the pieces instead. Enid is the first to make her way back out into the light and is glad for it. 

“Figured a place of production like this wouldn’t use real wood,” Rick concludes with a sigh. 

Carol shakes her head and Enid’s eyes are drawn to the mess they made upon entering. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to this. 

Gunshots. Rick hears it first and Carol is just seconds behind. Without a word, they take off towards the sound outside and Enid isn’t sure if she can hold much more anxiety. By the time they make it outside the gunshots and screaming have quieted. Carol curses, her men are lying dead in the dirt. Beside them are men and women with faces she'll never forget. Saviors. Her men were ambushed and clearly outnumbered. Rick glances at them and raises his python, the hairs on his skin raising. 

They’re being watched. 

“Ya’ll need to go. Now.”

Rick turns to the voice. 

It can’t be. 

 

“…Morgan?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry for posting again so late! If you're still with me, lemme hear it! 
> 
> [[please take notice of the tags!]]

Rick’s Python is quite tired of not being put to good use. There’s another hiss as it is lowered but Rick’s eyes are pinned on the dark-skinned man before him. 

“Wh-What are you doing here?” 

Carol steps forward, “How did you find us?”

“Followed you. There’s a group of Saviors who escaped, they ambushed your men. Heard them planning an attack on Hilltop. I was able to get a coupla of em but if you don’t leave, they will kill you.”

Rick wipes at the sweat rolling into his eyes. “Morgan-“

“If you don’t leave, they…they will kill you.” Morgan’s eyes are wild. His face shines with sweat and his chest heaves from exertion. His staff is covered in blood, the tip dripping. 

Rick shakes his head hard enough to make it hurt, “I am not leaving here without what I came for.”

Enid speaks up hesitantly, “Rick, I really think we should go. There’s only four of-“

Rick turns on her causing her to step back fearfully. “I said. I am not leaving here without what I came for.”

Carol steps in front of Enid and the young girl cowers behind her, “Easy…”

Rick turns from her to Morgan. “How much time we got?”

 

“None.” 

Out of the trees come at least twenty-five men. The lead man steps forward, his greasy long hair blowing in the stiff breeze. “You tried to bend us to your will. Tried to turn us against Negan. That won’t happen. I suggest you run, ain’t that right boys?” His men whoop with agreement and laughter. 

Rick’s eyes narrow as his python coils in his palm. “Inside. Now.” 

Everyone turns on their heel and they’re barely through the door before bullets pierce the air in a violent cloud. Windows shatter, the door doesn’t stand a chance against the force and it flies off its hinges. 

Rick winces at Enid’s scream. “Everyone down!” He orders, his own arms moving up to block the glass flying towards his face. 

Carol’s gun transfers from her back to her hands within seconds and she rises, a steeled look of determination on her face. 

“Wait.” Rick grabs her shoulder and she looks at him impatiently. “They’ll have to reload,” is all he says and she sits back on her haunches. He can hear Enid’s whimpers distantly, can see the trauma of this already etching its way into her. Morgan’s fist is clenched so tight around his staff he can almost hear the wood splintering between his fingers. Rick attempts to breathe through his anger so he can think clearly. 

The shooting seems to go on forever, bullet after bullet fly over their heads. Still, Rick waits, his hand never leaving Carol’s shoulder. She’s full of the need to retaliate but if she stands now she’ll be dead in moments. 

Enid crawls over and Rick hisses for her to keep her damn head down. She settles right by his side, her face hiding in his shoulder. There is wetness on his shirt where her face is pressed. He shushes her gently. 

The shooting quiets. They only have seconds to move. 

 

At the bellowing sound of Rick’s voice everyone moves into motion. Carol’s rifle reaches out with every ounce of her fury, her accuracy cold and unending. She mows down several of those men in seconds. Their blood washes the ground and each other. Rick moves to the window beside her, his python striking out, poisoning its victims with death. They fall to the ground as well, still and already on their way to becoming monsters. 

Morgan takes the pistol Enid is now too terrified to use and chimes in with his own shots, the pistol shakes in his hand but he aim is still straight and true. 

Until it isn’t. 

A hole appears in Morgan’s throat and he stumbles backward, his hands clasping wetly at the wound when he falls on his back to the floor. 

“No!” Rick and Carol both scream. They’re instantly by his side and Enid isn’t far behind. Rick fumbles to help Morgan put pressure to his wound but it’s no use. His friend’s heart rate is too high, forcing his life source out of him faster than help could ever come. 

Rick’s eyes are blurred with frustration. He rips off his shirt to apply more pressure but his efforts prove futile, the material is too worn to stop the flow. 

Morgan stills Rick’s hands and pushes them away with what’s left of his remaining strength. His eyes, as dull as they are now, tell Rick a harsh truth.

“Nooo…” Rick snarls deep in his throat. “No. _No_. We can get you outta here, man.”

“Rick…” Carol starts.

“Morgan. Stay with me.” Rick demands. “You told me you never die! Fuckin’ prove it.”

His friend’s words are almost hard to understand but they are sincere. Final. 

“Tired Ri-ck. Too long. Too much without my wife. My boy.”

Rick understands that in the most awful way. He grabs his friend’s hand, uncaring of the slickness covering his palm. 

Too soon, Morgan’s hand goes limp, his last breath easing from his chest.

Carol’s lips press into a firm line, her face giving away little emotion. Only the slight tremor of her jaw shows she’s actually present. Enid’s hand shakes as it covers her mouth. She looks away. 

“Fuck!” A scream tears its way through Rick’s throat so harshly it turns his voice into something horrid and garbled. He growls, tears slipping from his eyes mixed with sweat. 

Then there is nothing. No feeling, just an eerie numbness. This should have been different. Each loss has stripped a layer from him. His heart beats wildly underneath the thin veil of skin barely covering his chest. 

No more. 

Rick rises to his feet, python in one hand, his hatchet in the other. He’s gonna kill every-fucking-one of those bastards if it’s the last thing he does. 

Carol gets to her feet and grabs Rick’s arm, “Rick, don’t. They may have stopped shooting for now but…”

Rick removes himself from her grasp. “Rick. Stop.” She grabs her friend again and is met with the same resistance. 

He walks through the door, out into the light and further into his own darkness. He will have vengeance.

 

The Saviors stare at Rick when he appears through the door. They are shocked by his audacity. There’s a sick glint in Rick’s eyes as he walks towards them, he doesn’t notice Carol nor Enid at his back  
.  
The men advance quickly with raised knife and voice. Rick roars as his last bullet slices through the first man’s head. Together, the three of them cut down the rest of the Saviors until only their long-haired leader remains. The dust settles and the leader has somehow gotten Enid in his grasp, pulling her long hair back to expose her throat to his blade. 

He goes on to rant about how Negan will soon reign over everyone again. He taunts Rick on his losses and he really shouldn’t have done that. 

Rick takes a brave step forward, blood dripping from every part of him. It’s slicked through his curls that hang limp in his eyes. It is caked all over his bare torso, streaked across him in bright smudges. His pants are darkened with it, wet and sticking to his legs. He has half a mind to smile. He doesn’t. 

The leader presses the blade harder to Enid’s throat and she screams out for Rick and Carol.

He barely hears her, his focus narrowed down to the scum before him. Carol advances as well but is stopped by Rick’s raised hand. She’s saying something, soothing Enid perhaps, but he ignores her.

He can tell the man is afraid, devastated at the loss of his men when their odds were so great. Rick continues to call the man’s bluff until he’s just a few feet away. Enid reaches out to him with one hand and Rick yanks her from his hold. The leader flinches back and falls on his ass, his knife skidding across the dirt. Rick moves in front of Enid and points a finger back to Carol. She obeys, flinging herself into the older woman’s arms. 

The man shrinks before him amongst all of his dead allies. Rick can smell his fear, its taste pungent and bitter on the back of his tongue. He knows full well what image he must present. He must look more beast than human. The wet patch spreading across the man’s lap confirms it and Rick chuckles darkly in his face. 

The long-haired man opens sputtering lips to speak but Rick simply grabs a handful of his hair and holds him in place. With cruel fingers against his scalp, Rick bares the man’s neck like he had done Enid.

He turns the man’s head side to side, carefully measuring at what angle he will cut. All the while the man makes promises and pleas he knows the man holding him won’t heed to. His final utterance is a whine as Rick raises his weapon and swings down savagely. The dulled blade cuts into the man’s throat until his head is dislodged from his shoulders. Rick throws the head lazily to the side. It rolls, dirt sticking to the greasy strands, his eyes open in everlasting fear. 

He turns back to his companions, head tilted to watch the young girl. Enid is hiding her face in Carol’s chest, her arms wrapped around the older woman like a child. Carol holds her but her eyes show she’s satisfied with what was done.

Enid can’t help but cringe when she feels Rick’s hand on her shoulder, she chances a look at him and sees how his monstrous gaze has somewhat softened. She remembers then that the man before her is, in fact, a father, she just didn’t expect this sort of reaction. Enid is unsure when she steps out of Carol’s safe embrace and into Rick’s. Her hug is barely returned but as she is about to pull away strong arms wind their way around her. 

“Thank you.”

Rick looks down on her, he rubs the pad of his thumb over the centimeter cut on her neck. “Are you alright?” His voice is strained and raw.

“I’ll be okay.” 

Rick pushes her gently to arm’s length and steps away. He faces Carol, blocking her view of the battle scene behind him.

“Pack up. Morgan comes with us.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! Skyrim took my life and ran with it!!  
> I know our boys have barely been together so far in this (trust me, in frustrated too) But it's comin soon...ish! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

Maggie sits alone in her study. The contents of the pages under her eyes stopped having any meaning a long time ago. 

She’s been distracted today and Jesus realized it before she did, told her in his gentle voice that she needed time to relax. He had suggested a nap, a long bath, anything to reorder her thoughts. She had smiled then, a tired one that didn’t reach her eyes. Her smiles don’t anymore, she knows there’s no shine to them and she doesn’t know how to fix that or if it’s even possible. She had appreciated it, really she had, but a bath or a nap wouldn’t ease her weariness. 

Jesus understood this. He had bowed to her, as he has taken to doing lately, and left her alone.

Maggie tries to return to the pages, but they may as well be blank with all the attention she’s giving them. Her mind is on her dear friends, on Enid, the brave young girl she has taken under her wing. Over the past few months, she’s become like a daughter, someone she could see some of herself in. Enid is strong but she has still has a naivety about her that reminds her of Beth. How it hurts to think of that name, her baby sister, that beautiful face that is now forever lost to her. 

A wet spot appears on the paper, Maggie frowns as she wipes her finger over it. Her finger almost puts a hole in the material so she stops and wipes identical tears from her eyes. She thinks of something else. Her thoughts turn to Rick.

She wonders how he’s getting along out there, there’s no doubt he’s probably slaughtered every walker in a ten-mile radius by now. Maggie finds a chuckle for that, and it surprises her because she’s still so hurt by him. Hurt that he could make such a decision like that and not think to tell her, of all people, when he knows and witnessed what she had lost that night.

He knew what they all had been forced to give up to that bastard rotting away below her and Rick forced them to waste precious supplies on a man that would attempt to kill them all if he had even the slightest chance. 

Rick knew what Glenn meant to her, to all of them really, but to her most importantly. He knew, he fucking _knew_ and he still made that choice, effectively voiding everyone else of their voice. It was like his damned dictatorship all over again. 

She shushes herself like she would a sniffling child. With a shaken hand to her chest, Maggie forces herself to breathe and wills the frantic rhythm of her heart to ease. Her tears have returned but this time they are filled with anger. She’s never acted on her anger before, not until the world ended. Not until Rick demonstrated the sheer freedom of being the leader. Yet, each time Rick did it seemed to come with some unsettling and heartbreaking consequence. So she will be different. She hopes she will be different. 

But. Treating Negan the way she has with starvation may not be the best of starts. The torture has just begun a few days ago and she feels not one ounce of guilt over it. Only Jesus and the few she’s appointed to do the grim task have been told. After his slow death has been taken care of she can privately start over and truly be what she’s been saying she is. She won’t have to lie to Daryl when his suspicious eyes question her about bandages from the infirmary coming back bloodier than necessary. She feels terrible guilt over that part of it, yes, but she doesn’t need word to get out, just yet. Her reign would be threatened before it barely begins and she can’t have that. 

Negan’s torture shouldn’t count as far as transgressions go but she knows how people can be. They’ll beg for justice, foam at the mouth for it, but the moment it’s done they are disgusted by the manner it is given. 

 

Maggie doesn’t want anyone to know that she has darkness creeping within her as well, a darkness that Rick himself unknowingly taught her how to wield.  


She forces the pages under her eyes to gain back their relevance and settles in to sort them, profusely praying for the arrival of her friends. Rick included, for Daryl’s sake and a little of her own. 

Maggie’s thoughts halt when her door bursts open. Daryl strides in as if her ponderings summoned him. He wears fury like a cloak and damn, what the hell is it now, Maggie wonders. She meets his ire, the blue of his eyes drilling holes into hers. 

“The fuck, Maggie?” 

Maggie sighs deeply, placing her papers to the side, forgotten again. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“What’s this shit about Rick goin’ on the run with Carol instead of ‘Chonne?”

A shrug is his answer. Daryl steps up to the desk, his palms resting on it and Maggie thinks his hands will leave indents in the wood. 

“You shoulda told me that, not ‘Chonne.”

“Didn’t think it was all that important to you where Rick goes nowadays.”

“ ‘Course it does. He’s still my partner.”

Maggie takes a minute to choose her words and readies herself for the heated reaction she’s likely to get. “Does he know that? Recently, you haven’t wanted to be anywhere near him.”

Daryl curses loudly, the muscles in his arms bunching under the effort of not throwing something, probably. “That’s my business. If he goes out there without me, I wanna fuckin’ know about it. Anything could happen and I’d never…” His jaw clenches, his eyes showing a magnitude of emotion like dirt coming up to the surface. Then he is shoving away from Maggie’s desk, in two long strides he’s back across the room and her door is slamming behind him with so much force her clock falls to the floor and shatters. 

Well. It never had the right time to begin with, Maggie concludes. She doesn’t bother moving to pick up the pieces, she’s too damn tired. 

She resigns herself to these fucking papers again and is just starting to jot down some notes when her door opens once more. Maggie can’t help but roll her eyes, she may as well put a “Come one and all” sign on her door with a matching welcome mat. 

Jesus appears this time, slipping inside in his ever graceful manner. His eyes find the broken clock and he bends to begin picking up the pieces. He shows the utmost care in throwing away the glass and takes his time checking for any smaller shards. Maggie watches him, finding her patience lacking. 

“I wasn’t aware your duties include housekeeping, too.” 

Jesus gives her an embarrassed smile, he wipes his hands on his coat and takes his seat opposite her. “I aim to serve. Daryl seemed pretty upset, he almost knocked me over on my way here.” 

“Is there something you needed?” Maggie cuts in, unable to keep the hard edge from her voice. 

Jesus’s smile falters and disappears, forming into a more business-like nature. “It’s about Negan. His torture is done for today, his rations cut by almost half.”

A feral smile comes across Maggie’s lips, hearing those words sends a thrill up her spine. 

“Very good, Jesus. Very good.”

~~~

As soon as Jesus enters the office, Gregory creeps out of the closet. He’d had to wait to make sure that hunter guy would not be returning. The closet down the hall wasn’t the best idea but it was the best he could do in the daytime. When he reaches the door he presses his ear to it, straining to decipher the murmurs he is hearing. That woman and Jesus are talking about…something. If he could just make out what…oh… _oh_ …

Did he hear her say Negan? Torture? 

“- start applying salt. Gag him.”  
“Yes, ma’am.” 

And that’s all the information Gregory needs. He takes careful steps back from the door and makes his way outside. He knew that bitch was up to something, knew that business was being dealt with that didn’t involve just the good of these people. He just needed a way to get close enough to hear it. There is bound to be one person around here who won’t agree with her tactics and that doubt will spread. He figured Jesus would be the one to lead him right to the gold. From what he’s heard about Daryl, the man can hear and see anything so he guessed his chances would be slim in following him. Plus, the brutish man would beat him underneath the ground if he’d realized Gregory, of all people, was snooping around. 

Jesus, on the other hand, was the perfect wagon to get on and ride his way back to the top where he belongs. 

Daryl can still be of some use, though. 

He finds the man outside, barely tolerating Aaron’s voice in his ear. He’s talking about some mission they’re going on and though he’s afraid of the hunter, that man is exactly who he needs.

Daryl spots Gregory before he’s reached the last step leading from the house and stares at him with animosity in his eyes as he approaches. Before he’s too close, Daryl dismisses Aaron with a wave of his hand. The man doesn’t look too pleased but goes anyway. He lifts his chin to Gregory, flicking aside the filter of his cigarette. “Fuck you want.”

Gregory can’t help but smile, “I’ve got some information you can’t refuse.”

Daryl’s eyes narrow to unwelcoming slits. Gregory’s smile widens.

~~~

He’s stomping towards Maggie’s office again, leaving Gregory behind with his stupid ass grin. There’s a burning suspicion in Daryl’s gut that he’s been played but he can’t help it. Maggie said she would be different, dammit. She said she would and he believed her. How could she be so hypocritical as to do the same fucking thing she’s been preaching against? The only thing that keeps his irritation with her at bay is that it is Negan suffering. 

Daryl doesn’t want to believe Gregory but the cowardly bastard does make sense, for once. If he’s honest with himself – and he always is- what Gregory told him does hold truth to it. The overly bloody bandages, the way Maggie would always avoid his stare and the accompanying questions. 

It makes sense and fuck if he ain’t pissed. 

Tires over gravel immediately catch his attention. Daryl stops to watch the van pull up, his heart clenching in anticipation. When the van comes to stop, Carol and Enid climb out and are instantly lost in the crowd around them. Daryl frowns, unconsciously taking a step in their direction. 

_Where the fuck is Rick_

He watches as a couple of ex-Saviors make their way to the van. Daryl tries to swallow around what can only be rising panic as the back doors are opened. They gather around the back for a moment and Daryl strains his eyes trying to see through them. He can’t, so he takes another shaky step forward, his broad hands curling into fists.  
It takes several of them to arrange whatever the fuck is in their arms and that’s when he sees it. A body covered in a white sheet soaked through with blood. 

Daryl is certain he has never run so fast in his life. 

He pushes through the concerned crowd that has gathered around them, clipping several with his shoulder carelessly. Daryl’s hand trembles and there are already tears prickling his eyes as he moves a corner of the sheet to the side to reveal…Morgan. 

_The fuck..._

He’s lost in confusion until one of the ex-Saviors jerk their chin towards the van again and he obeys the direction. Daryl quickly steps around the door to look inside. An explosive breath leaves his chest painfully like he’s been holding it in for years. 

There Rick sits, his back against some sort of furniture piece, looking exactly like he should. Like a man who just lost a dear friend.

Daryl doesn’t know what to say, he’s stuck again and time has stopped without his permission. 

Rick raises his head and his voice is little more than an utterance when he whispers, “Help me bury him.”


	12. Chapter 12

For the next long while, there is nothing but the strained sound of Daryl and Rick’s effort as they dig Morgan’s grave. The ground is dry and cracked from the lack of rain, stubbornly more rock than dirt. The last of the sun beams down on them and Daryl can’t help but steal glances at his partner from the corner of his eye. 

Rick does not look well; his hair is slicked back with grime, blood, and sweat. The usually curled strands hang limp in his eyes and Daryl cannot help but notice how much longer it seems. It touches the bottom of his neck now, a telling sign of how much time has passed between their closeness and now. 

He notices the bruises littering Rick’s tanned skin where the veins are showing from the effort of shoveling dirt. He wonders how many more blemish the skin under his ruined shirt. That shirt was a favorite of Daryl’s at one point, beige and clinging to Rick’s body like second skin. Now, it hangs loose, ripped and stretched, bloodied beyond its color. It is a testament to how much havoc his partner must have bestowed against the people who attacked them during the run. 

Daryl spots bruises in the shape of fingers around Rick’s forearms and he shivers to think what Rick did to the person who left those marks. He wants to reach out, feels the longing so close to the surface he is surprised he has not risked it yet. 

Instead, his retrieves a bottle of water and rag and pours water over it. He catches Rick’s attention silently with a nudge to his shoulder and hands it to him. Rick grunts and takes the offered rag, wiping it over his face and neck. It only takes him a minute to do this before he is handing it back with a nod so faint Daryl would have missed it if he wasn’t staring so hard. Their fingers brush against each other in the passing of the rag and it is all Daryl can do not to gasp at the touch. He misses those fingers being intertwined with his. 

Rick’s eyes flicker down to Daryl’s hands and linger on the water bottle the hunter is crushing in his hand. He takes it when it is offered and takes a few hearty swigs of it before handing it back. 

“I’m good, finish it,” Daryl says, even though he’s thirsty as fuck. 

Rick shakes his head and pushes it into Daryl’s chest before turning his back to continue digging. He stops with hitched breath, pausing just long enough for the pain to ease before starting again in silence. 

Daryl wishes there was something, anything, anything at all he could do to help. He’s sure it wouldn’t welcome anyway so it finishes off the water, tosses the empty bottle to the side and continues digging. 

Nothing more is said and it’s not long before Morgan is finally laid to rest. 

Daryl stands back while Rick stands over his friend with his staff clutched tightly in his fist. There is no cross made available to add so he pushes it point first into the ground, the dirt accepts the offering with little resistance and Rick bows his head. 

Daryl wonders what kind of quiet, vengeful promise he’s making. 

When Rick turns to leave Daryl finally reaches out, his hand closing over Rick’s shoulder. He feels muscles as tense as steel under his palm and he squeezes. 

“Food oughtta be ready by now. You should eat.” 

Rick closes his eyes at the touch and for a moment he wants to turn into that embrace, but he remembers things are different now. He can hear hesitance in Daryl’s voice and decides to relent. 

“Okay,” is all he can muster. 

~~~

Rick is not too sure he’s wanted outside amongst everyone else but aside from dirty looks, no one says anything. They resign themselves to his presence but he still sits apart from them by a vacant fire and waits for Daryl’s return. Once he’s seated, a weariness hits him so hard he groans with it. His body all but melts over the beach under him. The injuries he had ignored from the fight had started making themselves known during the burial but now there is a deep throbbing thrumming through him. Rick closes his eyes against the brightness of the fire, its flames warm him a bit too much so he leans back a bit and picks at the dried blood sticking to his palms. 

He doesn’t remember at what part of the fight he got all of these scrapes and bruises, but then again, he never truly does. He does remember the fingertip bruises wrapped around his forearms though, and can almost smile at the memory. There is something truly wrong with him, he realizes, the glances aimed in his direction when they think Rick is not looking confirms it. 

Daryl returns with two plates, each with a serving of deer meat, he assumes, and some vegetables. Rick takes the plate, stares at it and hopes he can keep it down. He doesn’t want it to be honest, but there is something in Daryl’s eyes that convinces him to try a few bites. 

Rick is frustrated with himself for allowing Daryl to still have any effect on him, especially those damned blue eyes that are unlike any blue he has ever seen. Rick has never compared them to the ocean or the sky, that’s much too cliché; no, the blue of those eyes are unlike anything ever created in this empty world or the one before. He misses the loving look in them he worked so hard to unlock like some kind of hidden treasure. 

Rick wants to be angry at himself for still thinking those things about Daryl. The hunter isn’t his anymore and damn, he can’t fit many more emotions within him right now. He’ll implode, combust and burn brighter than the fire flaring up before him. His hurt would ruin the night further than it already is. 

A nudge from Daryl and a nod to his plate catch Rick’s attention. He realizes he’s been sitting there with his fork raised to his mouth without taking the bite. Daryl looks worried and what the fuck for? It’s not like he gives a shit anymore so why is he bothering?

The food has no taste but he forces as much of it down as he can, each swallow catching in his throat like rocks. He and Daryl sit in a tense silence that is not at all comfortable as it used to be. It grates his skin, makes him itch and fidget in place. He can’t stand it. 

“I almost shot Aaron the other day. If it wasn’t for Carol, I would have.” 

Rick turns his head to Daryl, feeling the urge to smirk at the dumbfounded look on the hunters face. His mouth has dropped open. 

“What the fuck for?” Daryl asks. 

“You know what for, Daryl. He wants you, anyone can tell that.”

Daryl scoffs at that but says nothing. 

“I saw the way he brushed against you like some mangy ass cat. He’s always with you.”

Daryl drops his plate, “He’s my second, you heard Mags. We gotta go over shit together. That’s it.” 

Rick looks to the sky instead of Daryl, “Yeah. I heard her. But what I haven’t heard from you is an end.”

Daryl shakes his head, clearly irritated. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Don’t act dumb. Other than you leaving our room, an official break up has not been made known to me. I recommend you correct that or Aaron might find himself in some trouble.”

Rick raises now and Daryl copies him, coming face to face so close Rick can feel his harsh breaths. 

_God, he’s beautiful when he’s angry_

“You’d kill him over senseless bullshit.”

Rick shoves Daryl back, the hunter catches himself and shoves back equally as hard. Both sets of hands are clenched and Rick feels pressure at his back, a thousand eyes and judgments. 

“Loving you does not count as senseless bullshit to me, Daryl. It never has.”

“I don’t want him. You fuckin’ know that. You’re being goddamn ridiculous.”

Rick turns his back to hide his shamefulness, “Yeah, well, you don’t want me either so what does it matter?”

He walks away, leaving Daryl with plenty of things unsaid and a thousand emotions warring within his heart. 

Rick isn’t seen for days after that and Daryl doesn’t go looking.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall. 
> 
> I am so so so sorry for going so long without updating this. I had a family move in with me for a month which was total chaos, ive been working 50+ hours a week for months, got sick for two weeks, struggled with school until I, unfortunately, gave up (for now). Um...um..yeah! 
> 
>  
> 
> Its been a long time since my last update but here it is! We're finally getting somewhere in this one and for those of you who have waited patiently, for those of you have asked me about this and for those of you who are still with me...I thank you!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!!!!

_I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.  
-Mary Shelley_

 

Two days. Two agonizing days. 

Rick sits at the edge of the bed he still cannot bring himself to lay down in. It holds too pretty a memory; the sheets still hold the scent of love he had not all that long ago. He can still picture an extra body there, laid on its side peacefully in slumber or arched beautifully in passion. The shoulder-length brown locks slipping through his fingers, slit blue eyes gazing into his own. He doesn’t blame Daryl for not turning up to find him nor does he fault the others. There are things that need to be done, things that need looking after, a future to build towards. He’s not a grounded child balled up in the corner of his room waiting for his parents to relent on his punishment. 

Still, it’s been two days and Rick is more than fucking done. 

Done with just sitting here. Done with the evil looks tossed his way when all he did was try to make things _right_ , make things _end_. He’s done with being estranged from his partner and family. He wants, no, needs them back and there is only one way he can even attempt to achieve that. 

Carl was right on what he said about the violence needing to end little by little so that the future can even begin to have hope. So that people will stop killing each other, so that the world may one day come to fruition. The walkers are killing enough off as it is without humans speeding up the process. Rick hadn’t completely agreed with going on without violence, his actions on that run with Carol and Enid says that much is still true. There will always be people out there willing to take and destroy. Something had to be done, a statement blunt enough to cement what he had been striving for. He needed to showcase his honor and his mercy, even if his enemy was undeserving of it. So, with Negan, he took that chance, figured it was the best time to make that change.

Oh God, how wrong he had been. Yet, how can he go back on that promise? He made an oath to his dying son about keeping Negan alive, had pressed it gently to Carl’s forehead and told him his death would not be in vain. In doing so he completely dismissed what his partner and family had been through with this monster, had used them selfishly to his own end. Rick realizes now that that must be amended. Avenged. 

He-he…he can still make that right. He can still grasp them once more. He can still…

Rick’s footfalls down to the infirmary are silent, his face set in grim determination. He creeps past each quiet room, having long ago learned to creep through old homes without a sound. 

_Dad…_ echoes in his head, bouncing off every wall within him and Rick answers, the sound falling almost too loudly from his lips. “Has to be done, son. Has to be done.” 

It’s unfortunate that Gabriel is the one keeping watch over Negan at this late hour, it really is. Rick appears behind the priest and drops him unconscious to the floor with the butt of his Python. He clenches his teeth in the effort to catch his friend’s limp body before he falls, propping him gently up against the wall and out of the way. Before he can overthink it, he’s opening the door and closing it behind him, locking it.

Rick isn’t entirely prepared for what he sees. Nor is he all that surprised. 

The candles placed around the room have burned low, the flames flickering close to their death. The light that is left casts his shadow out of proportion across the walls and Rick can see Negan. He’s flat on his back on the cot, the bandage around his neck is not at all white like it once was. It’s soaked through with brownish blood which tells Rick the bandage hasn’t been changed in too long. There are severe cuts covering most of his bare flesh. The white shirt Negan was dressed in is gone, balled up carelessly in the corner. It is bloody as well, days old. The man is thin and malnourished. Rick knows the signs of torture and pride for Maggie swells in his chest. A slow death is exactly what the bastard deserves, it’s almost a shame he won’t be suffering much longer.

The sickly, sweet smell of infection hangs in the air thick enough to wrinkle Rick’s nose as he steps closer to the man. Negan’s brow is furrowed, his mouth is downturned even in his sleep and there is sweat beading and dripping down past his temple. 

Good, Rick sneers, very good. 

Negan comes to when Rick snatches the bandage from his neck, revealing a messy wound that has obviously been tampered with and not allowed to heal properly. Negan recoils from Rick with wide frightened eyes, an honest-to-god- whimper slipping from his throat. 

“Please.” 

“No.” Rick answers harshly, “You don’t get to ask for a goddamn thing.” 

Negan swallows painfully, pressing himself further into the cot. "She-she… _burned_ Lucille. In front of me.”

“As she should have,” Rick’s mouth forms its first true smile in ages. 

“No. No!” Negan shouts, trying to sit up. Rick covers the man’s mouth with his hand, pressing him back into the pillow. He only removes his hand when Negan stills under his touch, eyes still pathetically wide and tearful. 

“You’ve got nothing to live for. Is that right?” Rick asks. “Good. Neither do I, because of _you_. You took everything and killing you is the only way I’m gonna get anythang back.” 

Negan has the audacity to grin, his frightened act gone. “Ricky boy, they’re never gonna love you again. You know that, don’t ya? They’re gonna hate you ‘til the day they die. They’re gonna cast you and that pretty girl of yours out and they ain’t gonna think twice about it. You don’t lead them no more. Maggie’s got a set of balls on her you’ll never have. Hell, the only reason you’re here is to ‘make things right’. You’re just as pathetic as I am, asshole.” 

A knife Rick didn’t realize Negan was holding under his pillow comes flying towards his face with more force than he thought possible. He has scant seconds to dodge it before Negan slashes at him again, slicing a thin cut into Rick’s shoulder. Between grunts and half screams, they fight over the knife, the cot shifting threateningly under them. Rick is able to turn his head, barely missing a stab at his eye. He straddles Negan in all of the confusion and presses all of his weight down onto the man, forcing the knife away from himself and downwards. Negan bucks under him, his feet thrashing, his teeth biting, mouth twisted around curses. They’re making entirely too much noise and this must be over. Now. 

Rick finally gets an opening to claw at Negan’s raw throat and that is what makes the man loosen his grip to fend his hands away desperately. 

“Mercy is over. This is for my family.” Rick growls, staring Negan in his eyes. 

He wrestles the knife from Negan’s hand, cutting it across Negan’s throat. His eyes widen one last time before going blank and unseeing, his hands slide from Rick’s and land heavily to the bed. The sheets struggle to contain the steady flow of Negan’s blood.

Rick sits up on his knees above Negan, he throws the knife to the side and just sits there a moment trying to still his beating heart and erratic breathing. With a huff, he leaves the cot and goes to the bathroom, carefully washing away the blood. When he glances at himself in the mirror, he can hardly recognize who he sees. He feels lost and so fucking tired. 

“Had to be done,” he answers his son’s voice again. “Forgive me.” 

It’s eerily quiet inside of the room now. Rick paces in front of the cot trying to figure out his next course of action. The flickering candles have given off the last of their light and now the room is dark and no longer foreboding. In the stillness, he hears a restless disturbance from outside. Rick cocks his head to the side, wondering if this is the next trick his mind has conjured up. When he hears a muffled yell, he makes his way to the window to see Maggie being thrown against a wall by a man much larger than her. He’s wearing all black, the coward. She recovers quickly enough but is met with another punch that throws her back. As soon as he sees the bright glint of a knife, Rick bolts out of the infirmary and down the stairs. 

Differences and disagreements be damned. He won’t lose someone else. 

He can’t.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone!!! What's a holiday without some angst to balance your day lol 
> 
> I've had some serious family issues going on, as of now my grandfather is in the hospital. My grandmother, my hero, has bleeding on her brain as well. For those of you who pray, please do so for my family. If that is offensive to anyone, I apologize. 
> 
>  
> 
> Welp!! I split the last chapter into two because it would have been too long. My apologies for the cliffhanger. This chapter was a joy to write and I hope you guys enjoy!

Running into Daryl is a surprise and expected at the same time. When they meet in the darkness, they fall into step like always, with deadly purpose and precision. Maggie is still yards away from them and Rick fears they won’t make it to her in time with a knife in play. The soon-to-be mother is holding her own though, absorbing the punches like they mean little to her. Rick’s world has narrowed down to her fighting for her and her unborn child’s life. Beside him, Daryl’s breathing is steady, sharp exhales from his nose as he races alongside Rick. By the time he and Daryl are close enough, Maggie has kneed the man in his groin, following up with a savage punch across his jaw. Rick wastes no time in jumping in, tackling the man to the ground with a sickening thud. He has no trouble spreading his weight evenly and heavily over the man despite the weight difference. Before long the man is pinned, breathing wetly and frantically through the mask on his face. The coward goes still before long, seemingly overwhelmed with male interference. 

Together, Rick and Daryl haul the man to his feet. He yelps at the harsh manner Daryl has wrenched his arms behind his back. Rick glances to Maggie and is almost startled at the dark glint in her eyes. She does not return Rick’s look, only stares over his shoulder at the culprit. One arm is curled protectively around her tender middle, her other hand is blanched white in a fist. Rick recognizes the darkness dancing in those honey-brown eyes and has to look away. His eyes find Daryl and they nod to each other, despite the situation it sends chills up his spine that even that small act is still possible between them. 

Finally, Daryl rips the mask from over the man’s head. Maggie’s gasp is loud in the night. 

“Earl.” She says, her voice is a snarl that sounds so unlike her. 

The man is hesitant to speak at first so Daryl gives him an unkind shake and he cries out in pain. 

“Ok! I-I…”

“Why.” Maggie cuts in, taking a threatening step forward.

“T’was your fault my son died. Yours!” 

Maggie shakes her head like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard, “We’ve had this discussion. Ken died trying to save a horse from the horde. That’s it.”

“That’s not what Gregory said.”

“Oh?” Maggie scoffs, “What did Gregory tell you then?”

Defiantly, Early speaks on what he believes is the absolute truth. “He told me that your group got overrun with them walkers. They woulda killed ya’ll so you sacrificed my son. _My. Son._ So you could get away. Told me too that you been torturing Negan, cuttin’ on him and starving him. You ain’t no better a leader than he was!” He spits at Maggie but it lands on Rick. Rick closes his eyes to calm himself, wiping the spittle from his face. Daryl restrains Earl further, bringing the man to his knees. 

Rick and Daryl look to Maggie, both seeing a flash of something in her eyes, panic maybe, but it’s gone almost like it never was. She pulls her walkie-talkie from her back pocket and switches the channel to a private one.

“Jesus. Jesus, you there?”

It takes a minute before a response then, “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Meet me at the gravesite. Within an hour I want everyone, but the children awake and waiting for me in the courtyard. Bring a horse and rope with you.”

“Maggie, what’s wrong?” Jesus asks, concerned. 

“Just do it.” Maggie snaps, then she adds, “Please.”

“Alright.” 

The channel goes silent. All that is heard now is the man’s pained breathing. His head is hung, his eyes only interested on the ground. 

“Ya’ll hear tha?” Daryl asks, narrowing his eyes as he listens. 

Rick frowns, “Nah. Don’t hear nothin'.”

“Mhm. Watch him.” He mutters, scooping Earl’s forgotten knife from the ground. 

He’s gone only a moment before he comes back around the corner with a frightened Gregory in tow, his lips already formed around more lies. 

“Don’t.” Maggie says, holding up her hand to shush him. “With all the chances you’ve been given, you still can’t help but start shit and create lies. I’m done with you.”

“Now now Maggie, c’mon. Earl doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Look at him! He’s crazy with grief! I never told him any of that and certainly didn’t urge him to attack you.” He chuckles like the idea is just too absurd to be true.

“You did! You told me to punish her! That she needed to pay! You said that- it was you. You!” 

“Enough!” Maggie shouts over both of them. She wipes angrily at her cheek where a nasty bruise is already starting to form. “I’ve made my decision.” She turns to Gregory, standing bolding in his face. The older man shrinks from her presence. “You’ve fucked up one time too many, Gregory. Your luck has run out.” 

Rick and Daryl’s eyes meet in complete understanding and agreement of what she means. 

Jesus and Tara appear from the darkness not too long after that. Jesus shows her the rope and informs her that a horse is waiting for her in the courtyard. At the sight of it both Earl and Gregory start struggling, over talking each other about what they do and don’t deserve. Maggie ignores them both and sends Earl off with Tara to be locked up. He’s grateful enough to shut up and follow her lead. Jesus gets custody of a terrified Gregory, he drags the man back off into the black. Everyone should be awake from the sound of his screeching and hollering. 

Once they are alone again Maggie, Rick and Daryl stand together quietly. Maggie observes how closely Rick and Daryl are standing together and cannot help but wonder if they notice. They look more united now than they have in ages. Good. 

She fidgets somewhat uncomfortably under their gaze, two pairs of blue eyes watching her endlessly. They both know, now. About Negan, they know. She braces herself for their accusations and questions, tries to be strong and unflinching. She’s their leader now and a decision was made, albeit a ruthless and selfish one, but deserving all the same. Additionally, and much more pressing, she’s scared that the fight has hurt her child and tears pool in her eyes. She aches from the punches and so much more and cannot hold them back. Her body curls instinctively around the life within it and the first tears run down her cheek. Damnit. 

Two pairs of strong arms engulf her in warmth, one pair offers support, the other comfort and she couldn’t be happier that Rick and Daryl are here.  


After a while, they pull away when she is able to compose herself. “Thank you both for…” She waves her hand around her vaguely. The smiles she gets in return go a ways toward soothing her.  


Rick steps back into her space like they’ve never had disagreements and lays a broad hand on her shoulder, without thinking she lays her hand over his. “You’ve got a while before everyone meets, get yourself checked out. Make sure the baby is okay.” He lowers his head to be eye level and Maggie nods. “Yeah,” is all she can manage. Daryl surprises her again with occupying her space, he so rarely does it. He leans his forehead against hers for a moment, wipes at the blood trickling down her temple gently then steps back, “Gwan. We’ll cover ya if need be” 

The act of both men, both closer to her than many people in this world, bring tears back to her eyes. The tears sting and it’ll be hard to see and move in the morning, that’s for sure. Without anything further, she makes her way to wake their doctor. She wonders how she’ll muster the courage and strength to do what she has planned next. 

***

Rick watches her go then stands awkwardly with Daryl, he can’t tolerate the foreignness that has developed between him and his lover now. It’s so fucking complicated being together but not at the same time. He doesn’t know how to act around Daryl anymore, doesn’t know how to just be like he was accustomed to. Honestly, Rick doesn’t know how to apologize to the man who means more to him than anything or anyone besides Judith. He knows he fucked up, knew he was fucking up as he was going through with it. He had a promise to keep, but that’s broken now. It’s replaced with a pang of guilt he knows he’ll carry for the rest of his life. He can’t speak on that now, couldn’t speak it to Maggie either. Rick refuses to blame Daryl, Maggie or anyone else for that broken promise, he just hopes it’ll matter to them when the truth comes out. Which won’t be long, Gabrielle will either be found or will wake up soon. So. 

Daryl’s hand on his arm almost startles Rick when he turns to walk away. There’s an odd expression on his partner’s face as his hand slides down to grasp his hand. Rick freezes in place, his eyes going down to stare at their clasped hands. He thinks it’s a mistake but realizes it’s not when that oh so familiar hand squeezes around his own. It’s the same arm that Negan cut in their fight and of course Daryl has noticed. 

“That guy cut ya?”

The words escape Rick for a moment, “What?”

“Earl. Did he get a cut in on ya ‘fore we stopped him? You alright?” He sounds so genuinely concerned. 

“Oh. No…no. It's from the run.” Rick lies. 

Daryl knows Rick too well to believe that but thankfully he doesn’t push. 

“Ok.” 

They stand within the same space for a few moments, hours or maybe years. Rick can’t tell but all too soon Daryl is letting him go, leaving Rick’s hand to fall limply to his side. 

“I’ll see you at the courtyard, then,” Rick says. 

Daryl shakes his head, “Nah. Mind if I head up with ya?” 

Rick’s jaw unhinges around no sound at all, then it flaps stupidly. “Sure, uh, if that’s what you want, yeah.”

Daryl doesn’t reply, just brushes past his lover, his stride carrying him quickly and silently into the night. Rick hurries to follow him. He’s not dumb enough to pass up this opportunity.  


He lets Daryl lead the way back to what used to be their room, feeling suddenly childish at the state of it when his hunter enters the room. Daryl doesn’t comment on it as Rick knows he wouldn’t and sits on the side of the bed facing the window. His eyes catch Rick’s then slide to the spot beside him in invitation and Rick finds himself more than happy to take it. 

“I’m sorry, Rick,” Daryl whispers after a while, looking forward. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Rick answers. It’s not so hard to say after all. 

Together they watch the last preparations for a hanging be made through the window.


End file.
